Head of Christ on a Breadboard

HEAD OF CHRIST ON A BREADBOARD
For Robert Fitzmaurice

by Adrian Blamires

Where the previous owner’s wood was stored
Beneath a workbench in the garden shed,
Musty now, fungal, darkened by rain,
The roof lifting, the roof-felt torn,
Slats rotten to the muscular thread
Of pushy brambles, thick with thorn,
I found a spider-shrouded breadboard
That bore a recognisably human stain.

Perhaps the iconic resemblance was faint –
No match for the whole eBay Host
Of miraculous faces in pastries and toast –
But a spill of metallic-gold Airfix paint
Gave a Byzantine look to the Christ,
Criss-crossed, scored, endlessly sliced.

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